Anything That I Have To
by dontcryMasha
Summary: Never seeing Kendall again sends James spiraling out of control. Slash. Kames. OC. M for drug use, death, profanity, sexuality, heavy angst.


_I can't…_

_No…_

_I won't._

Vague thoughts bounced around in an empty head. Was it a dream? Was it that place between sleep and waking? It was dark, and a memory came.

James stood in the middle of an expanse of green. The grass below his feet had been trampled from years of solemn shoes. It was midday and it was raining. There was a voice speaking in front of him, but it was impossible to hear it completely. He gripped the handle of his umbrella as tears rolled down his cheeks.

_Why?_

Everyone was talking about how wonderful he was. No, not James. This was not an event about him. He looked up and watched a mahogany casket be lowered into the unforgiving ground. The echoes of those crying around him made it difficult to breath. He had to be strong. He turned his head to the side and watched Logan blow his nose into a handkerchief. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked as if he was about to vomit.

As the service cleared out, the three remaining boys of the once popular band still stood beside the grave. Not a word had been said between them since the funeral began. The rain came down harder now, and James offered his umbrella to Carlos, who hadn't brought one. "I don't care," he said. Carlos took it and tried his best to smile. James stood there and let the rain fall. It didn't matter. He was too cold inside to care about a little water on his clothes.

Logan and Carlos left not long after that. It was too difficult to face. It had been too soon, in every way that you thought about it. James stepped over to the fresh grave stone and stared at it. Kendall's name had been etched into it with such care. It was a beautiful thing to look at.

Sure, everyone talked about how great he was. How strong he was. How talented he was. People told anecdotes related to his life and how he had touched them. But nobody mentioned the accident. Nobody wanted to think about it. Nobody questioned what happened. James accepted the fact that he would never know. All they heard was that he crossed the line and hit another car. Why? Why did he do that? Those questions would haunt James forever, but one thing hurt the deepest. He crouched down and touched the freshly turned soil. More tears trickled down James's cheeks and he whispered, "I never told you that I love you."

Here is where the memory ended and faded away. The pain was so deep and so cruel that he could not continue to think about it. His heart was torn and broken.

Suddenly he started choking and gasping for air. His eyes opened and he saw a ceiling fan spinning around. He regulated his breath and sat up. His arms were shaking. For a moment, he thought he was still at the funeral. He was not. It was over. It had been over for some time, now. This room was the bedroom in his New York City apartment where he now lived.

"You okay?" a woman's voice called out. That was his roommate, Lana. She was lying on the cot next to his, facing away from him and looking out the window.

"Yeah, just a bad dream," James answered. He gasped a little and coughed.

"Hung over?" Lana asked.

"Yeah."

"Figured."

James rolled out of bed and slouched into the main area of the apartment. It was a mess. It had been a mess. An empty tequila bottle was sitting on the glass table in front of the TV. He looked at it and touched his head. "Hair of the dog," he mumbled. The "bar" on the counter was still stocked full of booze, and he poured himself a shot of brandy. It burned on its way down, but felt good. Then he grabbed an orange from the fridge, peeled it all and sat on the sofa. Before he was even halfway done, Lana came out of the bedroom.

"Vicious hangover," she said.

"I guess," James mumbled.

"What? Something happen?"

"You know. Just dreaming about _him _again."

"Oh, James, you gotta move on." Lana sat down next to him for a moment and touched his hand. "You'll never be happy if you don't let go."

"Well then I'll never be happy." He threw a piece of the orange into his mouth and chewed angrily, looking out of the cruddy window. Lana sighed and shook her head. She got up, grabbed her purse and headed towards the front door. "I gotta go to work," she said. "Someone around here has to make money."

James shot her a nasty look and watched her leave. After she was gone, he said, "Someone around here has to make money," in a snotty, mocking tone. He then followed it with, "I don't care." His head was still pounding and his heart was still aching. Kendall would never come back, and James would never get to tell him how he really felt. All he had left were his memories, and scars that no narcotic could heal. He poured another shot of brandy and fell deep into the sofa. Life wasn't satisfying like it used to be. There was a time when he didn't need alcohol to feel moderately okay, and the cheers of the fans and smiles of his friends were enough to keep him happy. He closed his eyes and remembered them once more…

The first time he fooled around with Kendall. They were on tour and had just finished a concert in Denver and were back on the road. Carlos was stuck on the blue bus with Logan, and Kendall and James got the brown one. Kendall had just come out of the shower at the back and stepped into the kitchen area with just a towel wrapped around his waist. There had been growing sexual tension between the two, but neither of them had yet to announce it. James lay on the sofa and watched Kendall walk around the bus. He desperately wanted to jump up and grab him, but the consequences were unforeseeable.

"Sooooo," James said awkwardly.

"What's up?" Kendall was pouring a glass of milk.

"I dunno. Kinda bored."

"Me too."

"Cool set today."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. It was a great crowd." The light-haired boy took his glass and came over to the sofa where James was. He pushed his legs to the side and took a seat. The towel hung dangerously low on his waist.

"It was cool," James said again. He kept a close eye on Kendall's towel. It made him sick to his stomach in a good way, but Kendall must have noticed. He leaned over to James and said, "Dude, what are you looking at?"

"Nothing," James answered quickly.

"You're checking out my junk?"

"Nooo. Why would you think that?"

"It's okay," Kendall said calmly. James looked at him and his heart skipped a beat. Kendall repeated, "It's okay."

"W-what do you mean?"

"I know."

"Know what?"

Kendall didn't answer verbally, but he crawled up to James's face and suddenly planted a big, wet kiss on his lips. James closed his eyes and melted away into his friend's mouth. He had been waiting so long for that moment. Kendall's towel slipped off as he climbed up into James's lap.

"I know," Kendall said once more.

But now, James couldn't continue this memory. It was still too painful. He missed feeling Kendall's skin against his. Hearing his voice in his ears. He took another shot of brandy and fell asleep once more, this time without any dreams. It allowed the day to slip by quicker, and when he woke up in was almost 6pm. Unfortunately his head was still pounding. He sat up on the sofa and glanced around the messy apartment. Part of him thought, just for a moment, that Kendall was still sitting next to him. He looked down and suddenly began to cry. Tears poured from his once sparkling eyes and fell all over his lap. His emotions fell out of control and he sobbed and sobbed. Missing Kendall was the most difficult thing he had ever dealt with, ever. He would give up anything just to see him alive one more time.

Crying wouldn't do any good; it only makes the sadness build up tighter inside. So he got dressed and headed out to the club he frequented the most, maybe in the hopes of picking up some guy for the night. It was crowded and filled with laughing people, even at such an early hour. Already reeking of alcohol, he ordered a martini at the bar and stepped into the area with tables. James was relatively well-known at the club, not just because he had been in a band, but also the word of his legendary love making skills traveled between the boys he picked up weekly. A young, dark haired guy approached him and attempted to make a move, but James shunned him away. He continued to shuffle through the waves of men, constantly being hit on and constantly turning them down. Then he found a target; a tall, thin boy with messy blonde hair and heavy eyebrows. That would work. He sauntered up to the guy and said, "Hey."

"What's up?" The target answered casually.

"Whatever you want to be up."

"Uhh, haha, okay," he looked a little nervous, but James stared at him quite seriously. "This is my first time here, I guess you come a lot?"

"Yeah, sometimes," James said. He finished his drink and slid the glass onto a table. "Wanna take a ride of the diamond express?"

"What is that?"

"Whatever you want it to be."

After an awkward hunt, James captured his prey and dragged him back to his lair. When he came into the apartment, Lana was home with a couple of her friends. They were watching some bad movie and smoking pot.

"Yo, James!" Lana called out, her long auburn hair falling in her face. She held up a joint. "Wanna hit?"

"Not right now," he said in a hurry. He took the guy past his roommate and holed up in the bedroom. He locked the door to be safe.

"Not gonna offer me any pot?" the guy asked.

"Did you want some?"

"Maybe, I dunno."

"What's your name again?"

"Mark."

"Alright. So what do you want to do?"

"I dunno. Whatever you want, I guess?" Mark got onto the cot awkwardly and took his shirt off. He was really young, and his body still had that smooth, underdeveloped look. But he had abs and a nice figure. James took off all of his own clothes and pushed Mark onto his back. They kissed, but there was no passion. Mark was just an empty body to him. He didn't hold anything meaningful. James fucked him roughly against the wall and the floor, and upon finishing Mark got dressed right away and went to leave.

"Wait," James said.

"Huh?"

"I don't want you to go."

"Why not?"

"Can you stay longer?"

"Just a little." Mark came back to the bed and sat next to him. James put his arms around his waist and pulled him down beside him. He listened to Mark's breathing and held his hand, but Mark seemed irritated by it. "What are you doing?" he asked, withdrawing his hand.

"Cuddling with you?"

"Y-you're weird." Mark got up and stared back at James in disgust. He immediately left and slammed the bedroom door shut. James sighed and rolled onto his back. Mark's hand felt good in his, even if he hadn't enjoyed it. It was nice to just sit with someone for once. James whined to himself a little, and then he suddenly called out, "LANA!"

The roommate opened the door not much long after that. "What?" She asked.

"I want that hit now."

Lana came into the room and held out the joint in her hand. James took it and inhaled deeply. He flopped back into his cot once more and finally smiled.

"What did you do to that guy?" Lana asked. "He was piiiissed."

"I don't know. I don't know."

"Oookay, whatever you say, man."

James took the joint again and inhaled. He coughed a little, but smiled more. "He looked like Kendall," he said. Lana sighed.

"Seriously?" She asked.

"Yup."

"You're fucked up, James."

"Why?"

"You fucking gotta get over this dude. It's ruining your life. You need a fucking job. What are you going to do? Just let Kendall ruin your life? Jesus fucking Christ."

"I guess. But my life is ruined. I have nothing to live for."

"Shut up!" Lana yelled. She made a huffy breath and left the room. James shook his head and said to himself, "It's true. I have nothing to live for." Those words sat in his mouth with a sour feeling. Maybe it really, actually, seriously was true? That would be the only way to fix things, after all. He'd see Kendall again.

James got up and went into the main area of the apartment. Lana and her friends were still giggling around the TV. He ignored them and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He guzzled it all pretty quickly and took another. With that in his hand, he slumped off into the bathroom. Lana looked at him as he walked out.

He closed the bathroom door and flipped on the light. The mirror displayed James, but it wasn't the James that he wanted to see. What happened? He didn't sparkle anymore. His skin was sad and his eyes were bland. There wasn't anything worth living for. He contemplated which method would be the easiest. There was always the toaster in the bathtub, or hanging, or cutting. Cutting seemed so messy, though, and scary. Whatever he had to do to see Kendall again. Tears fell once more, and this time there were many. He sniffled and sobbed and watched his reflection look like a fucking crybaby. Where did his life go? Why did this have to happen? His hands began to shake. He slid open one of the drawers below the vanity and pulled out a razor blade (they kept some there for various reasons). His heart began to beat so hard that maybe a coronary would take care of him before there was any bloodshed. Holding the blade in his right hand, he held it close to his wrist. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing.

Just before he made contact, his phone rang. It was still in his pocket. He jumped suddenly with the sound and flung the blade into the sink. His hands were shaking wildly now, and he struggled to pull the phone out of his pants. Once successful, he saw that it was Carlos calling him. He answered and said nothing. On the other line, Carlos said, "Hey, James? You there? James? Heeey?"

"I'm here," James said. His voice was dry.

"You alright man?"

"I-I guess. Why are you calling?"

"I don't know. I just felt like I had to call you. I was sleeping, but I woke up real worried and thinking about you. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I-I am." Suddenly, all of this felt silly. Hearing Carlos's voice sounding so genuine and caring filled James's heart with something warm. "You're worried about me?"

"I guess so. It was weird. Sometimes this happens," Carlos said. He cleared his throat. "I think maybe I'm worried all this Kendall stuff is gonna make you do something stupid."

"Ohh, no. Don't think like that."

"Well, just take care. Okay? Don't let it ruin things. Are you still doing that drug stuff?"

"Only a little."

"You gotta stop. Job?"

"No," James said sadly.

"You need a job, dude!" Carlos exclaimed. "I'm gonna fly out over there ASAP and help you. Okay? Don't worry."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay." James hung up the phone and stared into the mirror. Did Carlos just save his life? He balled up some toilet paper and dried his eyes. There was a lot to think about. A lot to think about.


End file.
